


Last Stop

by breed (weatherby)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-09
Updated: 2009-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-04 07:10:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatherby/pseuds/breed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas and Lucius is in Azkaban.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Stop

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Slytherincess before Half-Blood Prince was released.

"It's almost Christmas," Pansy whispered. Her mouth was the only thing visible in the dark, hovering just above the lamentable flame of the candle. "The sun will be up soon."

Draco shivered and pressed his knees tighter against his bare chest. The soft flannel of his pyjama trousers was comfortable, if not comforting. "You ought to return as soon as the sun comes up. I can't imagine you'll manage to avoid questioning if someone sees you going back in."

He didn't know why they were whispering.

Pansy shifted and the glow of the candle caught her eyes for a moment. She was staring at him. "I'd rather wait until it gets a bit warmer."

"That would be stupid." Draco said. He curled his toes around the skirt of her robes, wedging his feet under her thigh. It was probably this cold in Azkaban. "I do hope you got me something expensive for Christmas. Perhaps a solid gold cauldron."

"You have three."

"All seized."

Pansy didn't ask what the Ministry could possibly learn from three solid gold cauldrons. She had realised months ago that there was never an answer to that question. She bounced her thigh against his feet. "You'll have to wait until tonight, Draco. It's only proper."

Draco wanted to say that this was hardly Christmas proper, but it seemed redundant. He tapped her knuckles and offered his hand out for the candle. Pansy peeled it away from the wax that had dripped and hardened on her hand and slipped it into his fingers. It was easier after your first turn, after the first layer of wax melted onto your hand. If you didn't pick it off, after that you barely felt it. It got easier every time.

"Why don't you come back to the castle for dinner?" It was hard to hear the whinge in Pansy's whisper, but it was there. "We could always say your mother had to go away on business so you came back."

"Then I'll have spent an entire week here for nothing. Holidays aren't over for another nine days. It would look stupid and suspicious." The door behind Draco's back threatened to slide open, jostled by his abrupt movement as he gestured dramatically with his hands. He pushed the door back into its jamb with his shoulders.

"And if they move this thing?"

"Then I'll have a change of scenery." He stared at the flame and wondered if they'd taken all the candles at home. "No one can suspect. Everything will be fine, provided you remember to bring me food."

Pansy squawked quietly with indignation. "You know I'm not going to forget, Draco. How could I?"

Draco rubbed his toes against the underside of her thigh. "I'm sure you'll be having such a nice time that you'll forget all about me, starving in the cold by myself." He laughed. "I'll likely die if you forget. Lord, how pathetic would that be? You'd have to come up with an explanation. Perhaps you could say I hit my head on the way home and no one realised. Do try to milk some sympathy out of people if I die, Pansy."

He pointed the candle at her. A stream of wax ran between his index and middle fingers. She wasn't laughing.

"I will," she said.

The sun was beginning to creep up and the window was becoming a dreary blue-grey. The walls looked dismal. It was frustrating when the light was almost full, and harder to avoid using magic to finish it off. It wasn't worth it, though, to risk getting caught doing underage magic only a year before he would turn seventeen. His mother would be embarrassed.

"I ought to go to sleep soon," Draco said. "It's nearly eight."

"It seems like it should be earlier." Pansy adjusted her robes and began making motions as though she was going to stand up. "The house-elves have probably started breakfast."

"Which is precisely why you ought to go _before_ the sun's come up entirely."

Pansy stood, but Draco didn't bother.

"I think you should have gone home," she said, as though she had been waiting a long time to do so. "I think _this_ is stupid, Draco. You could have shown up. You could have got off the train." She rested her hand on the top of his head.

"Mother didn't want me to have a bad Christmas," he said icily. Wax crumbled into his hair like especially bad dandruff. "I'll see you this evening."

"Happy Christmas," Pansy said. Her hand slid to his cheek and she bent down to kiss him on the temple. Draco didn't look up. "I'll bring you something good."

She paused for a moment and pushed the door open just enough for her to fit. In a moment, the outer door slid open noisily and a bitter gust of cold air swept over Draco's skin, threatening to extinguish the candle. He cupped his other hand around it and listened to Pansy struggling to close the door.

When he was sure she was gone, Draco pulled himself to his feet and pushed open the compartment door the rest of the way. From the window on this side, he could see Pansy's footprints on the platform, long and streaked through the slush of her older footprints. The corridor was still ice cold.

He checked the lock on the door, rubbed his hands over his upper arms and returned to the compartment alone. Pansy soon emerged on this side, a way off from the window. His blanket and pillow were tucked safely in his trunk, folded out of formality more than anything else. He threw them to the floor as Pansy walked through the snow to Hogwarts, no more than a black line huddled against the wind.

Draco licked his fingers and pinched out the candle.


End file.
